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Thursday, November 29, 2012

I arrived home from Crawley Hospital this evening feeling like death warmed up, only colder, and was presented with this picture by Amelie...

She told me it was her and Toby, and that she'd drawn it herself. A few things about that didn't ring true. The first is that Toby's clearly smiling, and since his latest round of vaccinations yesterday afternoon, there's no way he'd have posed for that picture. The second is that despite being a keen artist with a high production output, Amelie tends to favour a more abstract form of art which basically consists of scribbling in various colours on my work rotas. Anything recognisable is generally an accident. Unless you ask her to draw spaghetti.

I knew Lisa hadn't helped her, as I've seen my wife's art, and she's not capable of anything that advanced, but Lisa's Mum had been here all afternoon, and I've watched 'My Kid Could Paint That', so I suspected there was an adult's hand in it somewhere.

Amelie, however, insisted it was all her own work, so I asked her to draw me another one. And then watched in silence as she quickly produced this...

She wrote her name by herself without any help at all. It's like she's gone from scribbler to savant in an afternoon.

So I asked her to draw me...

She said the dots are the hairs on my face. I think my eyes convey exhaustion and jealousy. Both of which I was feeling.

So envious of her talent, and too tired to question it, I suggested she end with a self-portrait...